What Brothers Do

By Bakerj

***

PART I – 1860

Chapter One

“Look out!”

Hoss’s warning spun me to face the longhorn.  Twelve hundred pounds of furious muscle with horns spread four feet across and tapered to razor-sharp points.  No way I wanted to mess with her.  The beast’s eyes fixed on me.  I swallowed.  At my back, the newborn calf teetered upright.  Shit!  I had more trouble than I could deal with.  Hell.  I’d only gotten down to pee.

She charged.  I sprinted for cover.  Not fast enough.  If the world had an upside, I lost it.  Hitting the ground drove the air from my lungs, but with the hooves pounding in my ears, I scrambled to right myself and get out of there.  I flipped onto my butt in time to see the angry mom spin back around in a cloud of dust.

The shot stopped the animal in its tracks.  Time stalled.  I dare not look away from the cow to Hoss, but his rifle would be leveled and ready.  When she collected her calf and trotted away, I loosened my grip on the dirt between my fingers.  Neither of us twitched a muscle until she’d gone.  I drew in a breath, and Hoss dropped to his knee beside me.

“You all right?”  I told him I was, but Hoss had seen my leg by then.  “No, you ain’t.”

His grim tone said it all.  I made the mistake of looking down.  A ravine gouged into my thigh, splitting the flesh and leeching blood that turned my ripped pants scarlet.

“Sorry, Hoss.  Getting caught out like that.”

“Coulda happened to anyone.  I didn’t see her either.” Hoss slapped my back as he stood.  “Stay here.”

I flung an impatient look after him.  Where was I going?  When my heart stopped racing, my hands began to shake.  I wrapped them around the top of my leg, gritted my teeth, and rolled forward, trying to ease the agony that released like water from a broken dam.

“Goddam!” I gasped when Hoss emptied his canteen over the wound. 

He cast me a contrite look and pulled out his bandana.  “Sorry.  But I’ve gotta cover it.”

My breath rattled down my throat.  “It’s okay.  Just do it.”

Once Hoss had finished, he sat back on his heels and looked around.  His eyes narrowed while he drew a mental picture of our position.

 “We ain’t far from the cabin at Pine Ridge.”

“What?  We can make it to camp.”

“No, we can’t.  I need to get that cleaned up, and don’t you try and tell me it ain’t hurting.”

I gave Hoss a look but didn’t deny the comment or refuse help to mount.  The idea of being late for roundup didn’t sit well.  A clear image of Adam rolling his eyes and complaining that I couldn’t be anywhere on time hit me.  When I grumbled, Hoss snorted and told me I wouldn’t be taking part anyway.  That sagged me further into my saddle, but that thought was soon a million miles away. 

The lower pastures and buffalo grass gave way to towering pines that climbed toward the blazing sun.  Their branches gleamed with the new growth of pine needles, and birds building their nests filled the air with their song.  But its beauty failed to comfort me today.  Every time Cooch took a step, I ground my jawbone harder.  Sweat stood out on my white knuckles.  I had to focus on keeping my head up.  Hoss could do nothing to help, and I saw no reason to let him see how much the ride was taking out of me.  The uphill climb didn’t help, but at least we were out of the rising heat. 

It took a while for me to notice Hoss checking the trees.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“C’mon, Hoss.  Something’s got you spooked.  What is it?”

Hoss reined in.  “I dunno.  For the last couple of miles, I had the feeling we’re being watched.”

Forgetting my wound, I twisted around to look.  I sucked in warm air.  “Can’t see nothing.”  The words, coming out short and breathy, drew Hoss’s attention back to me.

“Like I said.  Ain’t nothing.”

My world narrowed to the gap between Cooch’s ears and the need to keep moving.  My leg thrummed its complaint into me like a man hammering home a nail.  When we reached the little cabin set back into the foothills, I wiped the sweat from my face and gave silent thanks to Hoss for insisting we divert here.

The rickety, wooden pallet that passed as a bed at least stayed still and made a welcome change to my saddle.  Lifting the leg onto it was a challenge.  By my side, Hoss helped.  I bit hard on my lower lip while air hissed through my lungs.

“Stay there.  I’ll fetch some water.”

“Thanks.”

Lying back, I closed my eyes and tried to will away the misery clawing at my thigh.  The bunk creaked, and I opened my eyes.  Hoss removed his bandana.  The ragged slash parted to reveal the oozing flesh.

“Needs stitches.  I reckon I can find the fixings.”  Hoss clattered about, looking through the small shelves in one corner until he found the tin containing the medical supplies we equipped our shacks with.  He returned and held out a small bottle of whiskey. 

“Need help?”  I shook my head.  Conscious of my shaking hands, I took my time putting it to my lips, careful not to spill a drop.  Hoss grinned.  “Stubborn little cuss.”

The easy way I returned the smile surprised me.  But that was Hoss.  He always made things better.

“All set?”

“Sure,” I lied.

My fingers gripped the wooden frame under the thin straw mattress so hard I thought they’d snap.  Every nerve and muscle stretched to its limit.  I’d reached the end of my endurance when Hoss stopped.

“I’ve cleaned all the dirt out.”

Picking up the needle, Hoss looked me in the eye.  Stitching up any man wasn’t a picnic, and I knew how my brother would be feeling.  I blinked away the sweat and shot him the best smile I could.  Then gathered up the remnants of my resolution and gave him a nod. 

God!  I thought cleaning the wound had been bad, but that had been a slow paddle down a calm river in comparison.  I fought to hold my leg still while Hoss worked.  My back arched from the pressure.  Teeth clenched, I tried to swallow my cries. 

“Let it out.  Don’t hold back for me.”  Typical Hoss, but I wasn’t about to take Big Brother up on the offer.  The glorious words, “All done,” couldn’t have come soon enough.

I lay like a rag doll.  A kitten who’d walked a hundred miles would’ve had more energy than I could muster.   Hoss helped me sit up and held out the whiskey bottle again. 

“Thanks.  Reckon I can ride tomorrow?”

“Ain’t you the optimist.  I didn’t go to the trouble of putting in them stitches for you to bust them open riding.  We’ll see in the morning.  Rest up.  I’ll go take care of the horses.”

After ten minutes, I’d had enough.  The discomfort gnawing into my leg couldn’t be any worse for moving.  I swung my injured leg down and hopped to the little table against the wall in the middle of the cabin.  From there, I made for the door. 

Panting but triumphant, I leaned on the door jamb when Hoss came around the corner of the cabin from the lean-to that sheltered the animals.  He spotted me. 

“Joseph!  What did I tell you about them stitches?”  Caught out, I hopped back to the bed.  The door slammed shut behind one mad brother.  “Dagnabbit!  If you’ve busted any, I’ll bust your head.”

My laugh died when the door flew open again from the force that kicked it in.  Frozen to the spot, we gaped at the man who filled the space.  It wasn’t the gun in his hand that caught our attention, but the other man he was holding.  Folded over his supporter, his shirt, jacket, and trousers were coated in blood.

“Drop your gun.” The man with the pistol instructed Hoss before turning to me, “You too.”

With the business end of a Colt pointed at my brother, I had no choice.  With two fingers, I pulled my revolver and tossed it down.  The loud thud of Hoss’s hitting the floor followed.

“You on the bed.  Move!”

“Wait a minute.  He’s hurt.”

“So’s my brother, and he needs it more.”   The gun swiveled my way.  “Get!”

Hoss helped me to the lone chair by the table.  The gunman made for the bed and laid the other man down.

“What happened?” Hoss asked.

“He’s shot, and you’re gonna take care of him.”

“He needs a doctor.”

“I saw you fix him up.  You can do the same for Geoff.  Now get over here.”

I didn’t like the gunman’s looks or his nervous trigger finger.  “Better do as he says,” I told Hoss.

***

Chapter Two

“This is bad.  I don’t know that I can help him.”

“You patched him up.”

“He weren’t shot with a bullet still in him.  We need to get him to town.”

“No!  No towns and I ain’t gonna sit here and watch my brother die, so you better do something, or he goes first.” 

The touch of hard metal pressed against my skull.  I caught the change in my brother’s expression.  We were dealing with a wild card.  

“There’s no need for that,” Hoss snapped.

“Tate.”  We all turned to the man on the bed.  “That ain’t the way.  No more killin’.  Y’hear.”

Tate abandoned his place next to me.  Dropping to one knee, he took his brother’s hand.  “I ain’t gonna let you die.”

“I’ll be okay.  We’re tough, remember?  Nothing keeps us down.”  Turning to Hoss, he asked.  “I’d be obliged for anything you can do.”

My brother could never turn his back on any injured critter.  This man was no exception.  “I ain’t making no promises.  First, I need to fetch water from the creek.”

“Any tricks, and you know what’ll happen.”

“Mister.  He’s your brother.  Well, that’s mine.  I ain’t about to risk his life any more than you would yours.”  I watched Hoss go and cursed my leg.  If it wasn’t for that, we could make a break.  My gaze returned to the men on the cot.  Tate ran a hand over his brother’s forehead.  The gentleness of the motion shook me.

“Told you it’ll be okay.  Cartwright’ll fix me up.”

“I’m sorry.  It’s all my fault.”

“Why’d you shoot that woman?  I thought I taught you better than that.”

Tate hung his head.  “I know.  I lost my temper.  But I warned him.  If he didn’t give us the money, I’d kill her.  I had to show him.  You can see that?  ‘Sides if he’d handed over the money when you told him.  They’d still be alive.”

Ice settled in my stomach.  We’d been invaded by a stone-cold killer.  

The injured man patted his younger brother’s hand.  “Remember that Christmas when we snuck into Widow Pearson’s yard and stole one of her chickens?”

“And then you stuffed my pockets with potatoes and turnips at the store.  No one gave me a look ‘cause I was so small.  Pa stayed liquored up in his room for a week.  That was the best Christmas we ever had.”

“I’ve always looked out for you, right?”

“Sure.”

“Listen to me.  I can’t run like this.  But if they catch me.  It’s only jail because I didn’t kill anyone, right?”

Tate glanced across at me.  “That’s right.”

“But if they catch you, you’ll hang.  You gotta go.  Take the money, get on your horse, and get.   I’ll find you later.”

“No!  I ain’t leaving.  It’s the two of us together, remember?  I ain’t ever leaving you.”

“You gotta do like I tell you.”

“There ain’t no way I’m running out.  Leaving you here with them.”

“Tate—”

“No!  And you can’t make me.”

Hoss’s return put an end to their discussion.  They fell apart.  The frustration on the older man’s face at his younger brother’s stubbornness was so familiar.  How many times had I seen that look on Adam’s?

The bucket thudded on the floor.  Hoss told Tate.  “If you’ve gotta knife, cut his pants free from the wound.  Little Joe.  I’ll need you at the top of the bed.”

Tate pulled his gun.  “He ain’t movin’!”

“I gotta get that bullet out, and unless you wanna hold your brother down while I do, you better let him help.”

Tate’s brother grabbed his arm.  “Go take care of the horses.”

“I ain’t leaving you here alone.”

The older man turned to Hoss.  “What’s your name?”

“Hoss Cartwright, and this here’s my brother, Little Joe.”

“I’m Geoff Law, and he’s my little brother, Tate.  You seem like a smart man, Hoss.  All my brother an’ I wanna do is get outta this territory.  You help us out, and we’ll move on.  No trouble.”

“Like you did with the others?”

Hoss shot me a look and demanded, “What others?”

“The two he murdered,” I replied, glaring at Tate. 

Geoff held his brother in place when he made a move toward me.  “That were a mistake.  It won’t happen again.  We don’t wanna hurt anyone.”

I didn’t believe a word, but when I glanced at Hoss, the slight shake of his head kept me silent and still.

“It ain’t much, but I’m taking your word.”

Relief relaxed the man’s shoulders, and he released his hold on his brother.  “I’ll be all right.” 

I recognized the turmoil within Tate, wanting to obey yet worried for his brother.  I could almost sympathize.  

When the door closed, Hoss began to lay out what he’d need.  Geoff hitched himself up onto one elbow.  “Don’t blame my brother.  The life he’s had, it ain’t no wonder he’s like he is.”

“I don’t much care.  All I want is you two out of here.”

“Fair enough.”

Hoss got down to business.  I held Geoff down while Hoss probed with his finger for the bullet lodged in his leg.  Calm and sure, he picked up the knife.  I looked down when the pressure under my hands collapsed.  “He’s passed out.”

Hoss grunted, dropped the bullet he’d extracted, and grabbed another roll of bandage.  While he wrapped the wound, he asked, “You reckon you can stand on that leg?”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled.  “What’s the plan?”

“Soon as that yahoo comes back, I’ll jump him.  You be ready to grab a gun.”

Anticipation tightened my stomach.  We moved nearer the door and waited.

Tate stepped through.  I wasn’t sure what went wrong.  While Hoss wrestled with him, I fumbled for the gun stuffed down his belt.  He lashed out and slammed his boot right on my bandage.  When I hit the floor, Tate twisted out of Hoss’s grasp.  I saw the blade and yelled a warning.  Launching at Tate, we went flying.  His hand reached for his gun, and I reached for Hoss.   Wood splinters prickled the side of my face and stuck in my hair from the first bullet. As I pushed Hoss through the door, I heard the second.  We ran into the gathering dusk.  With no time to get to the horses, I pulled Hoss toward the trees.  Tate’s screams of rage kept us running.  Bullets thudding into the bark and earth around us.  Then Hoss lurched and fell.

***

Chapter Three

My hands pressed hard to stem the blood flowing from the hole in my brother’s arm.  Tate’s second bullet had found its mark.

“Sorry.  I shoulda got the gun.”

“Ain’t your fault.”

The feel of the warm, slick liquid spilling from between my fingers made me press harder.  I tried not to look down at the blood on Hoss’s shirt where the knife had slashed.  The wound under my hands was enough to worry about.  I glanced around, checking again for signs of Tate. 

“Reckon he went back to the cabin,” Hoss told me.

“Yeah.  Can you make it to the creek?”

When Hoss nodded, my stomach flipped.  I had no clue what I would’ve done otherwise.  There was no way I could carry him.  Leaning hard on me, we circled back to where the creek ran. 

Hoss protested when I removed my shirt.  “Mine’s already ruined.  Use that.”

“You need it to keep warm.  ‘Sides, I’ve got my jacket.” 

Short of a knife, bandages, whiskey, and hot water, I stared at my meager provisions.  My eyes drifted back to his bleeding belly.  Hoss caught the look.  “One thing at a time, Little Brother.  You’re doing a good job.”

I couldn’t manage more than a feeble smile.  My hands were squeezed into fists to stop the shaking.  Hoss didn’t need to know how scared I was.   How did he do this?  Biting my bottom lip, I clung to my courage. 

My finger delved into the bullet hole.  Warm flesh gave way like jam under my fingertip, turning my stomach.  Blood bubbled under my other fingers, making them slippery.  When I touched the hard lump of metal, I almost cried out in relief.  Finding the edge, I eased down the side to hook the damn thing out.  The bullet plopped into my palm.  I flung it aside and set to the job of cleaning the wound.

When I finished, Hoss gave me a wink.  “Knew you could do it.”

I turned away to hide how close to the edge I was.  Fighting my emotions, I said, “Ain’t finished yet.” 

A long, thin gash had been carved across Hoss’s stomach.  I thanked God Tate hadn’t got the right angle to plunge the knife in.  If he had….  I tamped down the thought.  I didn’t need that kind of distraction.  When I finished, I sat down before my brother and took a long breath. 

“You need to go for help.”

I gaped at Hoss.  “No way.  I’m not leaving you here like this.”

“Joseph.”

“I’m not going.  So you can quit asking.  We both go, or we both stay.  It’ll be dark soon.  I’ll grab the horses then.”

Hoss shook his head but didn’t argue.  He’d have done the same and knew better than to waste breath on a lost cause.

***

Chapter Four

Shivering, I buttoned my jacket against the chill and shifted my injured leg.  Stiffness had settled in while we waited.  Moisture met my fingers when I touched the bandage.  Some of the stitches must’ve busted after all.  The bleeding wasn’t bad, so I kept my mouth shut.  I glanced at my brother.  He was hurting but holding his own.  We were in great shape.

Waking Hoss, I let him know it was time to move.  “We’ll get as close as we can.  Then I’ll fetch the horses.”

“Look.  Leave me here.”

“We’ve been through that.  Now, c’mon.”

We made a fine pair.  Me limping and Hoss leaning.  Going from tree to tree was slow progress, but the darkness gave way to the cabin’s light.  I’d just eased Hoss down against a tree when the cabin door opened.  Geoff stepped outside.

“Cartwright!  You hear me?  I know you’re out there.  You couldn’t get far with your brother’s leg hurt like that, and I know I got you with my knife.  Listen, Geoff’s worse.  Come back and take care of him.  I’m sorry I stuck you.  But that was your fault.  If you hadn’t jumped me, I wouldn’t have done that.  You hear me, Cartwright?  Come on back, and it’ll be quits.”

The whites of Hoss’s eyes shone when he looked at me.  Neither of us moved a muscle.

“Cartwright!  You c’mon back.  You hear me?  Geoff needs you.”  We heard Tate move further into the clearing.  The seconds ticked by.  We jumped when gunfire split the air.  “You come back, or I swear I’ll track you down and kill you both!”

My back pressed further into the pine that stretched ten feet across.  The large, rough plates of the bark dug into my skin.  Its solid strength, keeping us hidden and safe, reminded me of Pa.  Tate strode up and down, his boots thudding faster on the ground as each moment passed.  Then, the slam of the cabin door bounced off the trees. 

I risked a peek.  The front of the cabin merged into the foothills behind.  If it wasn’t for the light shining through the little window, a man could ride by and never even know it was there.

“I’ll give it a few minutes.”

“I don’t like it.  It’s too risky.”

“We need the horses.”

Hoss shook his head but didn’t argue.  The impatience sticking in my craw won out.  Time to move. 

The soft shush of pine needles eased around me as I snaked toward my goal.  My gaze fixed on the lean-to and then on the gleam of Cooch’s coat.  I froze.  Had I seen something move?  Pressing into the undergrowth, the heady musk of earth filled my nostrils.  My gaze inched over the trees and undergrowth, looking for movement.  Nothing, and I had a job to do.  I couldn’t afford to spook myself.  Turning back to my goal, I pushed forward.

This time, I heard it – the snap of a twig.  Shadows shivered and merged as I watched.  My muscles quivered from staying in position, but I held on.  It could’ve been some critter.  Still, I held.  My gaze drifted back to the horses a few feet away.  Their closeness taunted me.  Gut instinct screamed something was off.   I glanced back at the tree where I’d left Hoss.  I had to risk it. 

My fingertips touched the rough-hewn wood of the lean-too.  I reached for Cooch’s soft muzzle to keep him quiet.  Any noise could alert Tate.  The pounding in my heart made my fingers fumble as I untied the rein.  It slipped loose into my hand.  I’d done it! 

He attacked like a wolf, going straight for the weakest point.  The lump of wood he swung exploded against my leg.  It buckled, and my face slammed the ground.  He struck again and again.  I dug my fingers into the earth and tried to crawl away from the wrath that rained down.  Mud gathered under my jacket, driving into my bare chest.  A hand twisted into my hair and stretched back my neck like a bowstring. 

Tate snarled into my ear, spraying it with his spit.  “I knew you’d come for them horses.” 

My feeble resistance couldn’t stop me from being dragged to the front of the cabin.  Tate kicked open the door, and the light lit us up.  The last place I wanted to be was on my knees with a gun shoved into my kidneys.  I swallowed my bile.  My stupidity punished me worse than any pain in my leg. 

“I have your brother!  You wanna keep him alive.  Get out here.”

I closed my eyes and willed Hoss not to do it.  Who was I kidding?  Hoss took one look at my face, and his eyes snapped to Tate’s, “Ease up.  There ain’t no need to keep hurting him like that.”

I could’ve hugged Hoss when Tate did as he’d asked. 

***

Chapter Five

Hoss fought through the night for the life of Geoff Law.  He used all his knowledge to keep the man alive.  For us.  For me.

Lying in the corner, I couldn’t help.  Shivering into my jacket, I watched the blood creep over my pants leg.  It’s slow progress, the only thing that brightened my dismal thoughts.

“I’ve done all I can.  I need to take care of my brother.”

The words penetrated my fog.  I lifted my gaze to the two by the bed.  The glow of the lamp fought back the pre-dawn light that struggled to break through the window.  Shadows played across my brother’s drawn face.  How tired must he be?

“You ain’t fixing him up so you can run again.”

“He’s bleeding.”

“Let him!  It ain’t bad.”

Tate was a loose cannon, and I didn’t want him getting riled.  I called out, “I’m fine.”

“No, you ain’t.”  Hoss glared at Tate.  “Mister, you wanna stop me?  You’re gonna hav’ta shoot me.”

My heart raced when Hoss turned his back on the outlaw and walked those few feet across the room to me.  The gun didn’t go off, but I was mad. 

“Don’t take chances like that.”  Hoss managed a smile.  He looked exhausted.  I reached for his arm, glad to see my makeshift bandage was holding firm.  “You need to rest.”

“Let’s look at that leg.”  I fought down my plea for him to leave it be and tried to appear relaxed while he looked.  “I’ll bind it up tight.  We’ll hav’ta let the doc restitch it.”

That option didn’t sound too bad, so I nodded and braced for the worst.

“Hoss,” hissed through clenched teeth in protest.

“Sorry, but it needs to be tight.”

By the time he’d finished, sweat trickled down my chest, and I was panting like a trapped jackrabbit.  But Hoss looked happy, and that cheered me up.  Turning, he let himself drop beside me.  We leaned into each other, the tension draining from his body. 

“You did good,” I told him.

He gave me a nudge, and I smiled.  There we stayed, side by side, watching Tate bathe his brother’s head and mumble into his ear. 

“He’s waking!”

I jumped at Tate’s shout and opened my eyes.  Hoss glanced at me and went back to the bunk.  Helping Geoff to sit up, he gave him some water.  I watched the man reach for his younger brother, letting him know he was okay.  Tate bounced on the bed like a puppy while they talked.  A sigh of relief whistled from my lips.  Maybe we’d walk away from this after all? 

Boy, was I dumb. 

When Hoss checked the bandage on his brother’s leg, Tate moved into the middle of the cabin and turned his gun on my brother’s back.  I came bolt upright.  “What’s going on?  We had a deal!”

“That ended when you ran and left my brother to die.”

Geoff looked at Hoss.  “You did?” 

“I’d fixed you up first.”

Tate wasn’t giving in.  “No, he didn’t!  When you got a fever, I had to grab the other one to get him back.”

Blue eyes met blue when Hoss asked, “What would you have done?”

“He left you to die!  No one gets away with that.”

I read acceptance of the inevitable on Geoff’s face.  Tate’s fingers tightened around the grip of his gun.  No mama bear defending her cub moved faster than I did.  Plowing into Tate, I clamped my arms around his and spun him off his feet.  We went down in a tangle of legs.  Then, our bodies jerked from the blast that erupted beneath us.  

The yells of two older brothers vibrated around the cabin.  Rolling away from Tate, Hoss grabbed me and patted me down, looking for the source of the blood on my jacket.  The room resounded to Geoff’s screams.  I grabbed Hoss’s shirt and, through the yelling, told him, “Hoss, I’m fine.  It ain’t mine.”

Tate crawled to his brother.  Each torturous inch left a river of blood in his wake.  Reaching down, Geoff hauled him into his arms.  In the same way Hoss did, his hands searched Tate.  The wound wasn’t hard to find.  He pressed down, straining to stem the flow. 

Geoff’s words were a croon in his brother’s ear, “You’re gonna be all right.  Remember?  It’s you and me, brother, against the world.”  Eyes, dark with fury, fixed on me.  “You!  You shot him.”

Stunned, I looked down at the gun in my hand.  I’d forgotten I’d even grabbed it.  I didn’t need to excuse myself, but his raw agony wrested the words from me.  “He was holding it.  It went off …” 

“If he dies—!” 

Geoff broke off, hearing Tate moan, “It hurts.”

“You hold on now.  Don’t you leave me.”

“Never … do that.”

Geoff turned to Hoss.  Desperation written over his face.  “Help him.”

Hoss peeled off me.  My hand caught his arm, but I let go at the slight shake of his head.  Grabbing a rag, he pressed it over the wound.  His expression told me there was no chance.  He did what he could and returned to sit by me to wait for the inevitable.

Tate fought his hopeless battle.  The whole time, his brother urged and begged him to hold on.  One hour became two.  When Hoss could take no more, he went back to Geoff. 

“The boy’s hurting.  He’s fighting ‘cause you’re asking him to.  You gotta let him go.”

“Shut up!  He’ll make it.” 

“No.  He won’t.   You can make his passing easier.  Tell him it’s okay to go.”

Geoff shoved Hoss away.  The man didn’t want to listen.  Hoss slumped back next to me.  The defeat on his face hurt. 

“You tried.”

Our grim vigil continued through the night. The shadows in the cabin were lifting when the hand Geoff clutched went limp.  The life of Tate Law was over.

The three shots would be heard for miles, but I didn’t expect a response, least of all Pa and a couple of hands barreling through the trees.  I sure was glad, though.

Hoss and I testified at Geoff’s trial.  Thanks to our testimony, he escaped the charge of murder and a hanging.  Sentenced to seven years hard labor for robbery and assault, I wasn’t sure we’d done him any favors.  But I didn’t lose any sleep over him, and the Tate brothers drifted out of our minds and memory.

***

PART II – 1867

Chapter Six

Opening my eyes took effort.  My tongue ran around a mouth drier than an empty well.  I tasted blood.  I had no idea how long I’d been out.  So, what did I know?  Three men passing through who’d gotten off track.  Right.  Great job.  The pounding in my head was nothing compared to the humiliation that burned into my chest.  How could I have been so stupid to have gotten caught out by that old trick?

Tied to a chair like a plucked chicken ready for roasting, I couldn’t do anything more than look about me.  A lump rose in my throat.  I recognized one of our line shacks.  I was still on the Ponderosa.  

The door flung open, but the man who strode in wasn’t one of the men who ambushed me.  That made four.  How many more were there?  Seeing me awake, he grabbed and spun a chair to straddle it, laid his arms along the back, and grinned.

“Good to see you again, Little Joe.”  Did I know this guy?  I tried to get past my aching head to focus on his face.  Lean and chiseled from hard work and hunger, it held a pair of blue eyes that had none of the warmth of my brother’s.  He saw my puzzlement.  “It ain’t polite to forget the brother of the man you murdered.”

I snapped upright.  “I’ve never murdered anyone.”

Fingers clamped around my throat, closing it shut and cutting off the air.  He pushed me back.  The legs of the chair screeched as we went.  My vision jumped, and stars exploded when my head cracked against the wall.  “My brother, Tate.  Don’t say you don’t remember!”

Blood thrummed in my ears, and blackness surged in.  My chest spasmed when air reached it again.  I dragged in a lungful and blinked to clear my vision.  My captor moved to retrieve his chair and returned to sit in front of me again.

My memory stretched back seven years and dragged out a name.  When I could talk, I mumbled, “You’re Geoff Law.”

“Damn right.”

“You planning to kill me?”

He grinned.  “No, Little Joe.  Of course not.  I’ve had a lot of time to think.  How we were sharing a cabin with the sons of the richest rancher in Nevada and didn’t know it.”

“This is about money?”

Geoff leaned in.  I’d seen friendlier-looking cougars.  “This is about what you owe me.”

My wrists tensed, testing the ropes that tied them to the arms of the chair.  “You’re gonna ransom me?”

“You and brother Hoss cost me.  I reckon ten thousand is fair compensation.”

“Ten …!  Pa doesn’t have that kind of cash.”

“For your sake, he’d better.” 

He called in one of his men, untied one of my legs, and pulled off the boot and sock. 

“You plan on doing laundry?”

“Funny, man.  I need something to let your pa know we ain’t fooling.”

When he picked up the pliers, I stiffened and pulled back.  The chair rocked, and Geoff snapped at his man, “Hold him.”

I talked fast, “Now, wait.  Wait a minute.  You don’t hav’ta do this.”

“Hold still.” 

No way was I doing that.  Like the worst bronc I’d ever ridden, I bucked, jerked, twisted, and kicked. 

Geoff hung on to my flailing leg.  “Hold him, darn you.”

“I’m trying!  For a wiry, little fella, he’s strong.”

“Jesse!  Get in here.”

I groaned.  My strength was running out, and reinforcements would end my struggles.  The man strolled in, and Geoff told him to help hold me down. 

My body became a board as the pliers moved toward my foot.  My heart raced.  Was he gonna cut off my toe?  The pliers bit down on my big toenail, and Geoff wrenched upward.  With a ferocity that took my breath away, the nail detached.  My hands cramped back into claws, and my back arched.  A scream split my head.  I wanted to crawl out of my skin and run. 

“Jesus, Geoff,” muttered Jesse.  The shock in his voice wasn’t much comfort.

Geoff dropped my toenail on the table.  “That’s one.”

I went into a frenzy of movement in my desperate need to stop him from touching me again.  My struggles were hopeless.  The muscles in my leg strained until they cracked.  Geoff’s hand clamped around my ankle, anchoring it tight against his stomach.  The pliers moved in again.  This time, he did it slow.

Like a river raging from the spring melt, the agony burst through my body like the water crashing its banks.  My throat strained from the scream that tore through me.  I bit down and tasted blood.   I willed myself to black out, but with cruel perversity, the blackness stayed away.

He dropped my foot, and the two men released me.  I spat the blood from my mouth.  “You … bastard.”

He leaned in close.  “Did that hurt?  I bet it was nothing compared to the bullet you put in my brother’s gut.”  I swallowed hard at the satisfaction in his eyes.  Whatever else he wanted, part of the deal was to take a large chunk of payback out of my hide.  He cut a look at the bloody trophies on the table.  “Y’know.  We need one more.  For luck.”

Why struggle?  I’d only lose, and why give the sadistic swine the pleasure?  Through the small, dirt-smeared, encrusted window, I could see the pines.  They had stood tall and strong for a hundred years.  If I could be one of those?  Borrow a little of that strength?  Calloused fingers encircled my ankle.  My gaze didn’t waver.  I wasn’t here.  I was out there with the sun on my face, climbing high into the sky. 

I lifted my head from my chest.  Sweat stuck the hair to my forehead and dripped its saltiness onto my lips.  My tormentor swept up his prizes and dropped them onto the piece of sack, then rolled and tied it around the letter to go to my father.  The son-of-a-bitch wanted him to know he’d have no problem killing me.  My insides churned thinking about his and Hoss’s reactions when those tipped out. 

The three men left the shack.  I breathed deep, but the shaking wouldn’t stop.  My foot looked ugly, covered in blood, with spongy red gaps where nails had been.  Biting down hard on my lip, I looked up at the ceiling.  I should consider myself lucky he’d only taken my nails. 

***

Chapter Seven

The progress of the sunlight filtering through the small window helped me to track the time.  How long the messenger would take to return could tell me how far I was from home.  Any information would help with my escape.  Even if I had to crawl out on my hands and knees, I didn’t plan to sit around and wait for Pa to hand over the ransom.  He might be considered wealthy, but everything he had was tied up in the ranch.  To put together that kind of cash would bankrupt him.  That wasn’t going to happen.  Not on my watch.

Working my knots free was where I needed to stay focused.  The rough hemp turned the tips of my fingers red and numb.  My toes throbbed in time with the pulse in my neck, and I longed to plunge them into a cold stream, but there was no chance of that.  The pain didn’t matter.  I had a job to do. 

Dusk crept its quiet way in.  Geoff’s gang filled the cabin, forcing me to quit and pray no one would check the ropes.  Beans and stew cooking mixed with tobacco and sweat.  I kept my head down and listened to my captors laughing and joking as they ate. 

“What about him?”  The man called Jesse stood at the stove and pointed at me.

“He don’t get to eat.”  Geoff smirked.  He thought he was piling on the discomfort, but my stomach couldn’t handle food right now.

“What about water?”

“What is it with you?”

Jesse held his ground.  “I’d give water to a dog.”

I’d be grateful for the water, but my heart pounded.  Would the loosened knots be discovered?

“You’re a real Samaritan, ain’t you?  Don’t untie him.”

Breathing easier, I watched Jesse grab a canteen.  He gave me an apologetic look before putting it to my lips.  I gulped the liquid, grateful for the coolness that soothed my dry mouth and strained throat.  Could Jesse prove an ally?  “Thanks.”

I got a blank stare.  “Like I said, I’d do as much for a dog.”

Geoff guffawed.  Easing out of his seat, he tucked his thumbs into the back of his gun belt and strolled toward me. 

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?  I can see that mind of yours.  Tick, tick, ticking like a watch.  You won’t find any friends here.”  My hands curled into fists.  I longed to bury them in his face.  His smile stretched into a grin.  “Yeah.  I know you.”

He lifted his boot and brought it down over my exposed toes.  Shock jerked me rigid.  I grit my teeth.  When he pressed down, we locked eyes.  The breath huffed through me, but I held the look.  I wasn’t about to back down.  He sneered at my defiance and pressed harder.  My fingernails dug into my palms.  Then, he lost interest, lifted his boot, and turned his back.  I collapsed over my chest and fought down the nausea that squirmed in my belly.  I had to get out of there.

***

Chapter Eight

The pain increased as the temperature dropped, pushing sleep further away.  Demons played vicious games with my toes, sticking red-hot pokers into my exposed, vulnerable flesh.  The shaking came in waves that strained my muscles and slicked my skin with new layers of sweat.  Moving my foot sent excruciating fire through it.  Biting back a groan, I tried to think about something other than those damn toes. 

Larger than most, this cabin had a set of bunk beds.  Geoff occupied the bottom one.  My gaze rested on the man.  Seven years was a long time.  Long-forgotten memories of fear, blood, and pain returned.  Hoss had kept going with sheer guts and the determination to keep me safe, but he’d given out once the threat was over.  I wasn’t in much better shape, and Geoff lay on the cot, clinging to his dead brother.  A shiver shuddered through me.  When Pa’d tried to take the body, Geoff’s howls of resistance weren’t something I ever wanted to hear again.

My gaze shot around the cabin.  I sucked in a sharp breath.  This was the one!  The shack from seven years ago.  We’d improved it, made it bigger, but this was it.  A knot tightened in my stomach.  The man who held me had gone to a hell of a lot of trouble in a way I didn’t like.

“Something on your mind?” 

I jumped.  Shrouded in the darkness, I hadn’t realized Geoff could see I was awake.  “No.”

He grunted, uncurled from the bunk, and threw more wood on the stove.  Walking to the table, he sat facing me and pulled out his gun.  “That mind of yours working again, Little Joe?  Y’know, Tate was just like that.  Always thinking.”

“That right?”

Lying his gun on a rag, Geoff began to dismantle the Colt.  “Yeah.  He’d think us right into trouble.  One time he….”  I listened to Geoff.  To his stories about their joking, laughing, and getting in and out of scrapes.  I could tell similar ones about me and my brothers. 

All the while, he cleaned his gun.  He didn’t need the feeble light from the single oil lamp to work.  His hands moved with precision and an economy of movement honed from long practice.  Shadows and light played off the cylinder and barrel as he rubbed.  The musky smell of neatsfoot oil wrinkled my nose and reminded me of being out on the range with our cattle.  When it was returned to his holster, the Colt was slicker than a greased pig. 

Geoff picked up his coffee mug and tossed the dregs onto the floor.  “He was a good kid.”

“Good?” 

“Don’t blame Tate for how he was.  We had nothing growing up.”

“Plenty of people have nothing.  It doesn’t make them killers.”

“What would you know?  A rich guy like you who’s never missed a meal in your life.  We fought for everything we had.”

The goal was to get free.  Geoff was here because of his brother.  Attacking him wasn’t the way.  I changed tack.  “You’re right.  You and your brother had it tough.  But do you think he’d want this?  You’ve done your time.  You’re free and clear.  Start again.  Make a new life.  A good one.  In his memory.”

“You think I could, Little Joe?”

“Sure.  You took a wrong turn, but you were just trying to take care of your brother.  I understand that.  Anyone would’ve done the same.  But you can change.  I remember how you told him he shouldn’t have shot that woman—”

“Course I did.  I’d told that fool kid dozens of times, ‘Don’t use a gun.  It draws attention.  Use your knife.’”  The light shimmered off the blade Geoff pulled from his boot and turned in his hand.  His smile was mocking.  “He always did prefer that darn colt.”

Memories of the doctor’s report at the trial stopped me cold.  The wife shot, but the manager knifed in the back.  A hard lump of realization settled in my gut. 

“You killed the manager.”

“That’s right.  You and Hoss saved my neck when you told them it was Tate.”  He’d fooled us.  Hoss and I had stood up in court and saved a killer.  With no warning, Geoff moved.  The tip of the knife pressed under my chin.  “That was your second mistake.”

I lifted my neck to its tightest point when he increased the pressure.  The blade pushed home, breaking skin.  Eyes like a snake prepared to strike bored into mine.  Was he gonna kill me right here and now?  His hand snapped down, and he spoke as if he’d heard my question.  “No.  That would be too easy for you.  You killed my brother, and I’m gonna return the favor.”

“What does that mean?”

“I gave your pa clear instructions for delivering the money.  Big Brother Hoss is gonna do it.  He thinks he’s getting you in exchange.  He’s getting a bullet in the gut.  You’re gonna watch him die slow.  Just like my brother.”

My chest rose and fell.  It wasn’t the money.  All along, he planned to murder Hoss. “He saved your life!”

“That was his mistake.”

“You can’t do this.  I didn’t kill your brother.”

“You were holding the gun!  If it’d been your brother, what would you do?”

I turned away. There’d been one time.  My terror of losing Hoss had turned into fury, feral and rawer than anything I’d ever experienced.  It drove the certainty that told me I needed to avenge my brother.  I glanced back at Geoff.  Fear colder than the bottom of Lake Tahoe settled in my belly.  On the brink of doing the unthinkable, the morals my family instilled in me had asserted themselves, thanks partly to Adam’s intervention.  But if Geoff’s rage was half as deep as mine, nothing would stop a killer like him.

Our voices had woken the others.  One by one, the three men lurched off their bunks and bedrolls and left the cabin.  Geoff and I were alone.  The knots around my wrists hung loose where I’d worked on them all night.  Desperate men lacked chances.  This was mine.  I had to take it, grab his gun, and warn Hoss. 

I slipped my hands free.  With aching care, I lifted from my chair.  I reached behind, tilted the back legs, and slid my other foot free.  With the stealth of a big cat, I crept forward.  My eyes never left Geoff’s back.  The creak of the floorboard stopped my heart.  Geoff began to turn. 

I collided with his midriff.  We crashed onto the table and went down.  My hand scrambled for his revolver and closed around the handle.  Before I could roll clear, his closed around mine.  We battled for possession. Geoff’s squeeze forced my fingers closed.  The colt jumped to life, sending a bullet into the roof.  Slamming my elbow hard into his gut, I pulled free and lurched to my feet. 

Two men burst through the door.  The shot had done its job.  There was no escape.  But I could still save Hoss.  My hand tightened around the trigger as Geoff plowed into my chest.  My arm jerked up, and the roof earned another bullet hole.  Grabbed from behind, his men dragged me back. I’d blown my chance. 

“Son of a bitch. You’d have shot me!”

“If it was your brother, what would you do?” I spat at him.

Shoved into the chair, they held me down.  Geoff loomed over me. “You won’t get that chance again.”

I pulled back when he grabbed my left hand.  With a sharp twist, he bent my trigger finger to the side past the point of give.  The snap when it broke lurched me off my chair.  My middle finger went next.  Then ropes were dropped over my chest and tightened.  Bending forward, I cradled my quivering hand with the other like a broken bird. 

“All this time, I thought Tate was the rotten one.  I was wrong. You were right about your brother.  He was a good kid.  I saw how he looked up to you. He’d have gone anywhere and done anything you wanted.  And what did you do with that responsibility?  You turned him into a killer. I’m not to blame for his death.  You are!”

Geoff roared across the room with the force of the worst winter storm.  My breath hitched.  Shocked and silent, I stared down at the knife buried in my thigh.  He leaned in. “I’m gonna enjoy killing you.”

His knuckles tightened around the handle.  All the warning I got.  He yanked and ripped out the blade. 

I lost control.  Every part of me thrashed and convulsed.  The walls crashed in, and the world went black except for the sparks of light coursing through my brain, shattered by my screams.  I clenched my trembling hands, squeezing my broken fingers, and ground my raw toes into the floor, trying to control one pain with another.  Air scraped through my lungs as I fought to surface through the agony. 

“Fix him up.  We don’t want him dead yet.”

My head was down.  But when hands reached for my leg, I jerked away, bared my teeth, and hissed, “Keep back.” I didn’t care if they saw my misery.  My bravado had been torn apart like my flesh.

The one called Jesse replied, “If Geoff says to patch you up. That’s what’s gonna happen.”

It wasn’t much of a patch.  The blood had already started to spread when they hauled me out to put me on a horse.  They got no help from me.  I needed options.  Let them think I was helpless and couldn’t stand. 

By the time we reached the exchange site, the idea of standing began to feel like a real impossibility.  I had to pull myself together.  This was no time to be weak, not with my brother’s life at stake.  Dragged from my saddle, Jesse and one of the others half-carried me to the edge of a ravine.  Jesse stayed with me while the other two ducked out of sight.  I knew the spot.  A steep slope followed by open land to the tree line.  An impossible place to sneak up on a man.  

“Here he comes.” I heard the raw excitement in Geoff’s voice. 

“He’s stopped,” Jesse stated.

“I’ve got eyes!” Geoff walked to the edge. “You got the money?” Hoss lifted a saddlebag. Geoff’s men grinned at each other.  Their payday had come. “Keep coming, Cartwright.  Leave your horse at the bottom and walk up the path.”

“Mister, I ain’t moving another muscle ’till you show me my brother.”

Geoff looked at me. “You open your mouth. You’re a dead man.”

Jesse pulled me forward.  I didn’t need to see my brother’s face to know how concern would be creasing those eyes and pursing his lips.  With a nudge, Chubb started to move forward.  He was coming to get me like he always did.  Not this time, Brother.

His gaze fixed on those saddlebags bulging with greenbacks, Jesse had forgotten about me.  Planting my hands on his chest, I shoved.  He staggered and fell.  I whipped back around and yelled, “Get back! It’s a trap,” for all I was worth.  Hoss pulled up. 

Geoff drew his gun. “I said I’d kill you!”

“Did you think I’d care?”

Confusion flickered over his face.  He didn’t understand!  Geoff may have loved his brother, but self-preservation came first.  Anything else was a mystery, and that had been my advantage.  I wanted Geoff to see.  To know I’d won.  The biggest, brightest, triumphant grin broke out before I turned and leaped into the air with the abandon of a fledgling hawk. Geoff’s bellow of rage and bullets followed me down.

My slide became impossible to control.  I tumbled at the mercy of fate.  Every bone rattled as I pitched and skidded.  Skin scraped from my hands and face as I tried to slow my fall.  I couldn’t spit to clear the grit from my mouth or keep it out of my eyes, and my chest heaved when the air was knocked from my lungs.

I stared up, watching the dust cloud fade into the blue sky.  Nothing seemed to want to move, but I was alive.  Noises pushed their way through — the crack of guns and shouts.  Of course!  There was no way Pa would’ve let Hoss come alone. He’d have men hanging back out of sight. 

Lifting my head, I found Geoff scrambling down the slope.  The man meant to finish what he started.  What could I do?  I had nowhere to go, even if I could run.  My right hand closed around a rock.  Whatever else might happen, I wasn’t going down easy.

He reached the bottom and drew his gun.  His boots slipped and stumbled on the shale as he brought death closer.  My fingers tightened around my pathetic weapon.  Sweat snaked its way down my back.  Another crack echoed off the rocks.  Geoff lurched and looked down at the bloom of scarlet that grew over his shirt.  Those blue eyes lifted to meet mine.  He wasn’t giving up.  His gun began to rise.  My heart pounded.  But he’d run out of time.   When he dropped to the dirt, I let my head do the same.

I drifted back when someone grabbed me.  He called my name, asked questions I didn’t have the strength to answer, and then came the shout to Pa, letting him know I was okay.  I needed to be sure.  Forcing my eyes open, I reached out with my ravaged hand and let my good fingers rest on his chest.  Hoss was safe.  With a smile, I passed out in my brother’s arms.

The End

[August 2023]

With thanks to my Beta, Pat.

Episode referenced:
Vengeance – Written by Marion Parsonnet